For Love of Country | Page 2

AT BAY
XIX THE PORT OF PHILADELPHIA XX A WINTER CAMP XXI
THE BOATSWAIN TELLS THE STORY XXII WASHINGTON--A
MAN WITH HUMAN PASSIONS XXIII LIEUTENANT MARTIN'S
LESSON XXIV CROSSING THE DELAWARE XXV
TRENTON--THE LION STRIKES XXVI MY LORD CORNWALLIS
XXVII THE LION TURNS FOX XXVIII THE BRITISH PLAY
"TAPS" XXIX THE LAST OF THE TALBOTS
Book IV
A DEATH GRAPPLE ON THE DEEP
XXX A SAILOR'S OPINION OF THE LAND XXXI SEYMOUR'S
DESPERATE RESOLUTION XXXII THE PRISONERS ON THE
YARMOUTH XXXIII TWO PROPOSALS XXXIV CAPTAIN
VINCENT MYSTIFIED XXXV BENTLEY SAYS GOOD-BY
XXXVI THE LAST OF THE RANDOLPH XXXVII FOR LOVE OF
COUNTRY XXXVIII PHILIP DISOBEYS ORDERS XXXIX THREE
PICTURES OF THE SEA.

Book V
THE DEAD ALIVE AGAIN
XL A FINAL APPEAL XLI INTO THE HAVEN AT LAST

BOOK I
THE EVENTS OF A NIGHT
For Love of Country

CHAPTER I
Katharine Yields her Independence
If Seymour could have voiced his thought, he would have said that the
earth itself did not afford a fairer picture than that which lay within the
level radius of his vision, and which had imprinted itself so powerfully
upon his impressionable and youthful heart. It was not the scenery of
Virginia either, the landscape on the Potomac, of which he would have
spoken so enthusiastically, though even that were a thing not to be
disdained by such a lover of the beautiful as Seymour had shown
himself to be,--the dry brown hills rising in swelling slopes from the
edge of the wide quiet river; the bare and leafless trees upon their crests,
now scarce veiling the comfortable old white house, which in the
summer they quite concealed beneath their masses of foliage; and all
the world lying dreamy and calm and still, in the motionless haze of
one of those rare seasons in November which so suggests departed days
that men name it summer again. For all that he then saw in nature was
but a setting for a woman; even the sun itself, low in the west, robbed
of its glory, and faded into a dull red ball seeking to hide its head, but
served to throw into high relief the noble and beautiful face of the girl
upon whom he gazed,--the girl who was sun and life and light and
world for him.
The most confirmed misogynist would have found it difficult to
challenge her claim to beauty; and yet it would require a more severe
critic or a sterner analyst than a lover would be likely to prove, to say in
just what point could be found that which would justify the claim. Was
it in the mass of light wavy brown hair, springing from a low point on
her forehead and gently rippling back, which she wore plaited and tied
with a ribbon and destitute of powder? How sweetly simple it looked to
him after the bepowdered and betowered misses of the town with
whom he was most acquainted! Was it in the broad low brow, or the
brown, almost black eyes which laughed beneath it; or the very fair
complexion, which seemed to him a strangely delightful and unusual
combination? Or was it in the perfection of a faultless, if somewhat
slender and still undeveloped figure, half concealed by the vivid

"Cardinal" cloak she wore, which one little hand held loosely together
about her, while the other dabbled in the water by her side?
Be this as it may, the whole impression she produced was one which
charmed and fascinated to the last degree, and Mistress Katharine
Wilton's sway among the young men of the colony was-well-nigh
undisputed. A toast and a belle in half Virginia, Seymour was not the
first, nor was he destined to be the last, of her adorers.
The strong, steady, practised stroke, denoting the accomplished
oarsman, with which he had urged the little boat through the water, had
given way to an idle and purposeless drift. He longed to cast himself
down before the little feet, in their smart high-heeled buckled shoes and
clocked stockings, which peeped out at him from under her
embroidered camlet petticoat in such a maliciously coquettish manner;
he longed to kneel down there in the skiff, at the imminent risk of
spoiling his own gay attire, and declare the passion which consumed
him; but something--he did not know what it was, and she did not tell
him--constrained him, and he sat still, and felt himself as far away as if
she had been in the stars.
In his way he was quite as good to look at as the young maiden; tall,
blond, stalwart, blue-eyed, pleasant-featured, with the frank engaging
air which seems to belong to those who go down to the sea in ships,
Lieutenant John Seymour Seymour was an excellent specimen of that
hardy, daring, gallant class